


That's When I Feel It Strongly

by Doilooklikeicareatall



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Based on a comment someone made in one of my RP's last night, Coffee and dancing, Established Relationship, Had to write it up as soon as I saw it., Hope you like this though, I have been rather remiss with writing lately and i apologize for that, I kinda like it though, It's actually longer than I thought so do beware that, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, these cuties doing the thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doilooklikeicareatall/pseuds/Doilooklikeicareatall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Humming is the first thing I hear when I wake in the mornings nowadays.'</p><p>Sherlock wakes up with his lovely partner, fluffy morning sex is had, and our detective wonders how he could ever have wanted to be married to his work when this was on offer.</p><p>Written in like, two hours, unbeta'ed and un-britpicked, hope you like it all the same! <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's When I Feel It Strongly

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a little exchange in one of my RP's from last night:  
> 'You know when you look the hottest? SH
> 
> When is that, love? JW
> 
> All the time. But in the morning, when you stand in the kitchen and make yourself your after-sex cuppa, and your hair is all messy in a beautiful way. And you're not wearing anything but a pair of pants and my dress shirt, and you just look so blissfully happy. That's when I feel it strongly. SH'
> 
> And so, the idea for this was born. It's longer than I thought it would be, but I do hope that you like it when you read it all the same. Kudos, feedback and bookmarks are not necessary, but very much appreciated! I've been really stressed and any positive stuff would be wonderful. 
> 
> Have a lovely day/night! <3

Humming is the first thing I hear when I wake in the mornings nowadays. It used to just be silence and the cold emptiness of my bed, but since John came along and deigned to be with me, I wake to the soft, pleasant tenor of John humming his silly little love songs into my neck, and I feel the warm presence of him comfortably tucked up behind me, warm and slightly sleepy breaths on my neck as he hums.

 

I’ll turn, greeting him happily, my voice thick and gravelly with sleep, and I’m always absolutely delighted to hear his fond response, his own voice slightly less gravelly than mine and absolutely perfect as always. I’ll kiss him, receiving an enthusiastic kiss in response, before John happily declares that it’s time for morning sex, one of my (and John’s) self-professed favorite parts of our morning routine.

 

I prefer to sleep naked, I always have. This is pretty convenient for the current activity. My John prefers to wear pants and a vest, though, which is decidedly not convenient. They’re easily divested though, as I happily indulge myself in the wonderful feel of my partner pressed up close to me, just as hard and eager to touch as I am. It differs, what we decide to do on any given day. 

 

Some mornings, it’s sloppy blowjobs, laden with smug little grins and content little giggles. Less frequently, we’ll have sex (though, we have a bit of a quarrel about who’s going to be on top). But this morning, much like many other mornings, we just move lazily against each other, sweaty and eager, cocks just barely brushing but enough to feel amazing. That teasing contact is just enough to bring the both of us over, coming with soft noises and murmurs of each other’s names, all over our chests and stomachs, letting out gentle, sated huffs of breath as we calm down. Then, when we’ve relaxed enough, John will kiss me (lovely, even with the morning breath), and will then get himself up out of bed, still entirely naked and covered in our come, and disappears into the bathroom, returning with a warm, damp cloth to clean us up with. 

 

He’ll be tender and meticulous as he cleans, as is his nature, pressing soft, fluttering kisses to my cheeks, my lips, my eyelids, like he’s thanking me for something. Sometimes I think I want to ask what he’s thanking me for.

 

The moment is usually broken when he plants one final kiss on my lips, slightly more firmer than the others, before announcing brightly, a bit more awake now, “I’m going for a cuppa, my dear. Would you like one?” More often than not, when John asks me this, I’ll just smile at him softly and shake my head, not really wanting to get up and drink my coffee (It’s become a rule that we’re not drinking our cuppas in bed, after an incident with tea and a bit of snogging that resulted in a pretty large stain on the sheets and a faint burn on John’s thigh). This morning, though, I just murmur contently, “Coffee would be wonderful right now, thank you, love.”

 

John will beam at me, like those words were just what he wanted to hear and it was making his day already, and he’ll stand, tugging his pants back on (despite my protests that he just remain nude for my viewing pleasure), before going to the nearest drawer (my drawer, though he usually doesn’t realize) to grab a shirt. My dress shirt is just a bit long for John, and it doesn’t really button up right, but my John really does look delectable in nothing but my dress shirt, hanging loose at his sides, and his pants, which are a bit tight, deliciously so. Though, in my opinion, my love always looks delectable.

 

He’ll head into the kitchen, and I’ll laze about in our bed for a bit before pushing myself out of bed, grabbing a pair of boxers from my wardrobe and tugging them on, before following my lover, leaning against the doorway to the kitchen, just watching my radiant little soldier as he makes our regular after-sex cuppa.

 

He prepares his tea and my coffee as always, jiggling about a little as if he’s doing a bit of a dance to a tune that nobody but him can hear, the tails of his borrowed shirt flipping out behind him as he spins toward the fridge to get the milk for his tea, the look on his face so blissful, so entirely overjoyed, that I feel my heart warming to melting point in response. (Though, only metaphorically, I know that a human heart cannot literally melt. I have done experiments testing that particular theory.)

 

At this particular part of the morning, I wonder, as I always do, how I ever wanted to be married to my work, waking alone, living alone, when I could have been waking up to this all the time.


End file.
